January 20, 2021. 8:00 PM EST. The screen fades from black. The president stares intently at the camera. He takes a deep breath and lets it out with an audible sigh. My fellow Americans, the time for games is over. It’s time to stop pointing fingers—at politicians, at medical institutions, at other countries. We can’t … Continue reading We must do better
Creative Writing
Unwelcome Attention
Oblivious. Or maybe an open ear, monitoring the room. Yes, probably that, so just an impression of oblivion. I don’t stop myself; I bury my nose in the junction of her neck and shoulder, dry and downy, and inhale the sweet perfume of clean. One eye opens, staring, not at me, but across the room, … Continue reading Unwelcome Attention
Blockade
The ramshackle jumble of tumble-down trees builds a blockade at the edge of my yard. Brown, mostly brown with highlights of muted green—ivy smothered trees, frozen, dried, projecting brown as well. So brownish on brown, in fading light it’s hard to focus on any one object. Fifteen years ago, my house freshly purchased, no deadfall, … Continue reading Blockade
Slog
Slog. (verb) Work hard—toil, labor, grind, slave. Walk or move with difficulty or effort—trudge, tramp, traipse, trek, plod. Slow going. No, really, I mean slow! Two miles uphill. At first, I ran. A mile, maybe less. The hill steepens; I start my slog. My son Eli and I tried to bike this trail two weeks … Continue reading Slog
Killing time at Hyundai
Part of my 'killing time' collection. Be advised, I'm not suggesting it's time to kill. Gritty(er), (more) industrial. My morning run around Hanover, PA, not on foot, but on wheels. My car, the Hyundai, the ‘good’ one, needs service. It burns oil, consumes oil, a mechanic recently said. I brought it to the Honda dealership … Continue reading Killing time at Hyundai
Different Lives
This short story originally appeared in the Bangalore Review. Chris My alarm shrieks. It’s 6:57. Out of bed and into yesterday’s clothes. Dizzy from alcohol and insufficient sleep, I step into the morning under-dressed. My coat lies on the couch, the December freeze ignored in my haste. I race the clock to move my car. … Continue reading Different Lives
Breaking out beyond my blog
Months ago, I wrote a blog post called Blogging, Disabilities and Other Stuff. After I hit publish, I realized that The Other Stuff is the tile of my blog. Possibly, and unintentionally, I may have defined the other stuff. In this post, the only other stuff besides blogging and disabilities is my insecurity over whether … Continue reading Breaking out beyond my blog
Running beyond the edge of suburbia
We glide, side by side, matching stride and pace. Silent, except for breath, the quiet thump of rubber on asphalt, simultaneous, the steady rhythm accompanied by a pattern playing in my head. Sunny and warm, a gentle tailwind matches our pace, leaving the sensation that we’re standing still, inhaling the pollen-laden air we just breathed … Continue reading Running beyond the edge of suburbia
Hole N’’The Rock
Carved into a cliff twelve miles south of Moab, Utah sits Hole N’’The Rock. That’s how it’s spelled, with a quotation mark--or maybe a pair of apostrophes--used as a separator. I don't know why. It’s a home, or it was forty-five years ago. Fifties kitsch, the real stuff, not knock off replicas, decorates the place. … Continue reading Hole N’’The Rock
Regrets, I’ve had a few
Everyone’s tired. Everyone’s grumpy. We're all exhausted. We pulled in last night at 9:30 after our whirlwind tour of North Carolina colleges. We live in Pennsylvania. It’s practically a southern state compared to New England states like New Hampshire or Vermont, but our winter suits none of us. Especially Sophie. She’s a high school junior, … Continue reading Regrets, I’ve had a few
Scramble
“That looks disgusting.” I was home for lunch. For the third time this winter, my work closed because of a snowstorm. Today’s was a pretty good one. By eleven o’clock we had four inches of fluffy snow. Looking out the window, a somewhat opaque veil added an inch or two each hour. Home for lunch … Continue reading Scramble
What makes me *Me*
Own it! Look on the bright side! Why fight it if you’re not going to win? Why, indeed? I just picked a fight with an Autistic dude. If you’re in the know on Person First Language, you might chastise me. Dude with Autism you’d say. My way assigns a label, takes away his identity. My … Continue reading What makes me *Me*
A Chance Encounter
Wary, maybe cautious. That’s a nice way to put it. Distrustful. Suspicious, is more accurate. Four sets of eyes, watching. A couple and their dogs. Unleashed Dobermans, they seemed in control, all of them, but menacing still. No one moved, no one said a word. Half off the path, glaring. I gave a wave, and … Continue reading A Chance Encounter
My Spot
On Saturday, he woke up sick. Not sick in a way worth blogging about: no visits to the E.R., no uncontrollable vomiting, no diarrhea, he didn’t even have a fever. He was stuffed up, congested. He moved from bed to the corner of the couch, the spot where I always sit, next to the ceiling … Continue reading My Spot
My Bad
I'm failing miserably. Actually, I posted it twenty-four hours ago, so I guess I've already failed. Miserably. Like everyone else in the United States, part of my past four days included thoughts about a certain Catholic high school boy and a soon-to-be-a-senior-citizen Native American. I've thought about them while driving home from work (because NPR … Continue reading My Bad
Resolve #2
Verb: Decide firmly on a course of action. Noun: Firm determination to do something. I’ve written about resolve before—last time, the noun not the verb. On this thirty-first day of the last month of 2018, an errant thunderstorm serves to remind me that climate change is real, it’s here, and it’s messing with the natural order … Continue reading Resolve #2
The Routine
It’s a simple mechanism, the garage door lock. A spring-loaded bolt pushed through a hole in a metal rail—the rail that the garage door rolls along as it's opened or closed. It’s like the deadbolt on the front door. Binary, locked/unlocked, no gray area. There’s a lever to pull to release the lock. The bolt … Continue reading The Routine
YouTube
Sophie and Eli stream YouTube on their phones—their version of Saturday morning cartoons. It’s 9:00am, they just woke up; I don’t know what time they go to bed. I can’t get a straight answer out of either of them. I’m asleep by ten each night. They stare at their five-inch screens and stifle a laugh … Continue reading YouTube
BADASS (the book)
Does anyone wonder where I’ve been? Am I being self-aggrandizing to think that anyone cares when I write a blog post? That people might notice when I’m not commenting on their blog? When I go missing for what, two weeks? I just passed my five-year anniversary as a blogger. If you’re astute, you might look … Continue reading BADASS (the book)
Motions of Tourette
Eyes clenched, squeezed like a pair of fists, seconds before a fight. Eyeballs lurch, left then right, pushing ripples behind my bunched-up lids. Rapid eye movements in a dream of pain. Probing for that sandpapery spot—oh, they itch so much. I think no one is watching. Teeth on edge, scraping, my jaw gliding, forward and … Continue reading Motions of Tourette
